“Hey, Pearl.” He knelt on the floor beside her. “I saw you dancing with Tandy. You like dancing?”
She nodded, rocking back and forth, clapping her hands and giggling.
“That’s right, dancing.” He smiled, clapping his hands in time with her.
“Saw my mom sweet-talking you,” Scarlett said from her seat at the table.
“She was?” Click arched a brow at Scarlett. “I thought she was just talking.”
“Exactly,” Scarlett said. “When has she ever talked to you before tonight?”
He shook his head. Point made. He was suspicious. Still, he’d like to think the past could be left in the past. Since he’d left Fire Gorge, his goal had been to make something of himself. If Woodrow Boone and Tandy’s mother, Susan, objected because he was the no-count son of a drunkard truck driver and a woman with loose morals, he’d be better than that.
In time, he’d realized the only person he needed to prove himself to was himself. And he’d done that, for the most part. He’d lived life with enough sense to keep his head and keep his regrets at a minimum.
“Ta-dee,” Pearl called, reaching out for Tandy.
Tandy sat on the ground, rubbing Banshee’s back. She smiled as Pearl climbed into her lap. “What’s up, cuddle bunny?” Tandy asked. Her gentle smile gripped Click’s heart with fierce longing.
This is what he regretted. Tandy. He didn’t regret how he dived in and lost himself in loving her. He didn’t regret the time they’d had together, the plans they’d talked about or the vow he’d made to be hers forever. He regretted he’d let her go. That he hadn’t fought harder. That even now, he could picture how good life could be for them.
“She was never nice about your mother. Or your father.” Renata interrupted his thoughts, steering him back to Evelyn Boone and the flare of self-doubt these people still managed to stir. Dammit all.
“Guess I was hoping enough time had passed that people would stop looking at me and seeing my father.” He hadn’t meant to say the words out loud, not really.
Tandy’s hazel-green eyes found his. “What they think doesn’t matter. You know that. You’ve lived life without their approval. Don’t let them change that now.” She nodded at his daughter. “You’ve been blessed, Click.”
His nod was stiff, the thrum of his heart accelerating at the intensity in her gaze. He’d spent hours learning how to read those green eyes. Hours of talking, hours of exploring, hours of loving. He’d known every light crease her smile caused, how expressive the sweep of her brow was, the mesmerizing flare of her hunger and pure bliss of her release. He’d seen the world in her eyes. And wanted that again.
Her gaze fell from his. “I should head out,” Tandy said, offering him Pearl.
“You’re really going to sleep out there?” Renata asked.
“That’s the plan.” Tandy’s tone was tense—so was her posture.
“Since you’ve got Banshee watching over you, I think I’ll stay here with the reliable electricity and warm water.” Renata grinned.
“I have warm water,” Tandy argued. “Warmish.”
“Ta-dee?” Pearl asked, smiling and waving.
“Tandy is going night-night,” she said, waving back. “Is night-night right?” she asked, barely glancing at him.
“It works. Still figuring things out,” he admitted. He didn’t know what Georgia called things. Her note had provided him with the minimal instructions. Things like what words Pearl knew, her bedtime routine and her favorite toys weren’t included.
Tandy was looking at him then. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. She had questions. If she asked, he might just answer them. One look told him she wouldn’t. Her attempt to keep him at arm’s length was being challenged by his daughter. Whatever courtesy or interest she was extending him was based on shared childhood memories and his precious daughter. Thinking anything else would only cause him heartache.
“It’s getting late,” he agreed, shifting Pearl to his hip. “We should head out, too. Walk you out?”
Tandy nodded, smiling her goodbyes at Scarlett and Renata.
The walk from the event hall to the gravel-covered parking lot was fairly quiet. Pearl hummed softly against his chest, her body relaxing against him. She’d be asleep before they made it home.
Tandy kept glancing his way. Every time, he waited, knowing she’d have at least a hundred questions for him. This resistance was new. Before, she’d speak her mind. But, unlike Renata, she was gentle about it. Tandy had always looked beyond the answers to the heart of the matter. She’d always done that with him—been careful with his heart. She’d known how battered and bruised it was.
When her gaze darted his way again, he said, “All you have to do is ask.”
She sighed. “It’s not my place, Click.”